


The Crèche Caper

by debwalsh



Series: Meadowville Memories [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caper Fic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, Marvel Holiday Swap, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:19:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: Steve and Bucky consider it their civic duty to finally put an end to the Terror at Christmas.The crèche-nappers are going down.By any means necessary.A Marvel Holiday Swap giftfic for raving_liberal.





	The Crèche Caper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raving_liberal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/gifts).



> So, I’ve been in fandom forever. Like, forever. But I’ve never done a gift exchange before. And I have to say this was a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy reading it as much I did writing it, raving_liberal!

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.  Is this for real?”   
  
“Father Joe says it happens every year.  The parish sets up the nativity, they put the baby Jesus in the manger, somebody always steals it.  Every damned year. Parish has a special ‘baby Jesus fund’ so they can buy replacement baby Jesuses every year.”   
  
“Like how many?   
  
“Like ten every year, I think?  Apparently, they start replacing the baby right after the thieves take the first one.”   
  
“Don’t learn from their mistakes, huh?  Geeze. So. You don’t have that twinkle in your eye ‘cos you’re enjoying my special hot chocolate.  What’s the plan, Star-Spangled Man?”   
  
“Simple.  Catch the thieves.”   
  
“Oh, now you’re Philo Vance, huh?”   
  
“More like Nick Charles.”   
  
“Either way, William Powell was dishy.  But yeah, Nick was sexier. That make me Nora or Asta?”   
  
“Asta, definitely.”   
  
“Woof.”   
  
“Okay, you can be the Nora to my Nick.”   
  
“How ‘bout I’m the Nick to your Nora?  Gotta helluva rack on you baby - love to see you in a white satin number with feathers and heels,” Bucky told him with a lascivious eyebrow waggle and a theatrical leer.   
  
Steve stared into Bucky’s eyes for a beat, then snorted a laugh.  “Should’a mentioned that for Halloween. Anyway, this Christmas thief -“   
  
“Crèche crook -“   
  
“Cradle robber -“   
  
“Baby bandit -“   
  
“Jesus-napper -“   
  
“Asshole!”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Not you.  Well, maybe you.  But the thief. Or thieves?  How many people does it take to lift a baby doll?”   
  
“Dunno.  I’m assuming they’ve got a lookout - the nativity is in a pretty public place, spotlights and everything -“   
  
“Kinda the point, high visibility.  You really don’t want to put your fancy nativity where nobody’s gonna see it. So, likely an exhibitionist. In it for the thrill of discovery.  Or just dumbfuckery.”   
  
“Okay, so we gotta assume at least two of them.  The doll’s not so heavy they need a separate driver.  So. Asshole, huh?”   
  
“Nobody normal steals the frigging Christ child from a nativity.”   
  
“That’s a good point.  So, we can eliminate most of the town.”   
  
“St. Michael’s have any enemies?”   
  
“It’s a church.  We talking interfaith politics here?  Mad Presbyterians?”   
  
“Competitor?”   
  
“What, for souls?”   
  
“Butts in the seats.  Sports? Bake sales? Who has the best snickerdoodles? Any other churches who like to egg Father Joe on?  Jealous poker buddy?”   
  
“Mmmm.  He does get kinda feisty when it comes to the Methodists.”   
  
“Yeah, who wouldn’t?”   
  
“Put a pin in that idea.  But why would they be disrespectful, huh?  I mean, it’s their lord and savior, too.”   
  
“So maybe the synagogue over in Wayside?  Rabbi Theo is super competitive about basketball, and Father Joe is a little shit center court.   Or maybe the mosque in Cherrydale. Imam Kiyan has been trying to win the county prize in baking for the past three years, but Mrs. Strauss always edges him out.  And you know how she dotes on Father Joe.”   
  
“Now you’re reaching.  Plus that’s really offensive, Buck.  Nobody’s dumb enough to start a religious war at Christmas.  And everybody we’ve met from the synagogue and the mosque have been the nicest, kindest people you’d want for neighbors.”   
  
“No worse than pinning it on the Methodists,” Bucky shrugged. “Nah, you’re right - only bigots or idiots would think it’d be another house of worship.  Next thing you know, they’d be blaming Miz Delilah’s Wicca coven. And nobody, but nobody, goes after my ladies.”   
  
Steve didn’t bother to stifle the inelegant noise that came out at that.  Bucky always held Wednesday afternoons open for his “ladies of the Craft” gabfest, and he’d recently started a new plot in the garden specifically for herbs for the group.  Anybody said a bad word about them had the ex-Fist of Hydra’s fist to worry about.    
  
“Well, there’s always the obvious culprit.”   
  
“High school jocks.”   
  
“Yep.”   
  
“So it’s probably that, or some numbnuts who’s had too much to drink and not enough sense to make good life decisions.  We should check out the bars.”   
  
“My money’s on the high schoolers.  Maybe like ... like a rite of passage.  ‘Cos this has been going on for years. But I gotta wonder, Buck.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Where the hell are they putting the baby dolls?”   
  
&&&   
  
In a long disused room in the basement of Kennedy High School, just north of Meadowville, a group of junior and senior boys met.  Metal shelving lined the room, and on the shelves sat rank after rank of baby dolls in swaddling.   
  
The missing baby Jesuses from over a generation of seasonal theft.   
  
“Dude. Don’t you think all these dolls are a little bit creepy.  I mean, just look at their glassy eyes, just starin’ at ya. I think I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks,” one of the boys said to another.   
  
“Fuck, yeah.  Last year, I kept having nightmares about being chased through the halls by an army of the little fuckers.  I stopped eating my Ma’s chili, and I got over it, man. Who knew spicy food could lead to bad dreams about murder dolls?”   
  
“Seriously?  You guys are so lame.  They’re just frigging dolls.  Baby Jesuses. They’re like, forbidden from doing anything creepy.  They’re like blessed or something.”   
  
“How the heck they’re blessed?”   
  
“They come from the church, doofus.  The church blesses everything. It’s like, a thing.”   
  
“That’s stupid.  The church doesn’t bless everything.  I used to be an altar boy, I should know.”   
  
“Guys, guys, guys!  Enough of the chatter. We gotta choose teams and assign dates so we’re ready to grab this year’s crop of baby Jesii.  Who’s up first?”   
  
“Man, what’s the point of stealing the baby Jesus, huh?  Doesn’t that like make you cursed or something?”   
  
“The point is tradition.  This group has been stealing baby Jesuses since my Dad went to this school.  We stop nicking the baby Jesus, town’ll lose one of its holiday traditions.”   
  
“And that would be a bad thing why?”   
  
“We gotta responsibility to the future, man!  We fall down on the job, generations to come are gonna be disenfranchised!”   
  
“I think you’re just repeating words you heard in class, dude.  I don’t think they mean what you think they mean.”   
  
“Whatever, loser.  You either help steal a baby Jesus, or you’re out.  What’s it gonna be?”   
  
&&&   
  
“Seriously.”   
  
“Seriously, Tony.”   
  
“You want to use the considerable computing power of my state-of-the-art, one-of-a-kind AI to surveil a church nativity.”   
  
“To monitor criminal activity.”   
  
“Of the baby Jesus stealing variety.  Honestly, Steve, it’s a right of passage for many a young man in suburban America.”   
  
“It’s stupid and disrespectful.”   
  
“Ah, another country heard from. You wanna tell me you didn’t get up to such hijinks when you were a young Buck, Bucko?”   
  
“Nope.  Too busy pulling this idiot’s ass out of trouble every damned day.  And twice on Sundays. I swear to God, he’d get into fights before Mass, and go find trouble again after.  Confession was a pointless series of deja vu -“   
  
“Yeah, yeah, time to reminisce later.  Surveillance now. Can you help us out or not, Tony?”   
  
“Oh, did I not mention that Wilson is already on his way with the units?  He’s wheels up already, should be there in less than an hour. I’ll take payment in dried fruit this time.  Pepper is addicted to your fruit leather, Barnes. Especially the plum flavor.”   
  
“For Pepper, anything.  I’ll even toss in a few jars of my preserves.  She’s gonna love it.”   
  
&&&   
  
Sam arrived right on schedule, touching the Quinjet down in the fallow field behind the house.  He deplaned with a grin, tossing a metal container at Bucky while going in for a hug with Steve.  “Stark says you got a thief problem at the local church. Grand Theft Baby.”   
  
“We’re doing our civic duty,” Bucky answered while Steve chuckled and clapped Sam on the back as they made their way back to the house.  “Or else Steve’s tryn’a get in good with the Monsignor. Come on, dinner’s just about ready,”   
  
&&&   
  
Dinner consisted of a thick, flavorful stew made of local grass-fed beef, and their own veggies from the garden, accompanied by thick slices of homemade bread and local butter, all washed down with local craft beer.   
  
“I dunno how you guys aren’t big as houses if this is the way you eat every night.  Damn, that is fine. Y’gotta give me the recipe for my Ma - she’ll love this stuff.”   
  
“I’ll send you home with a coupl’a quarts for Darlene.  Want some bread and butter to take home, too?” Bucky offered.   
  
“So long as you’re offering, wouldn’t mind a six-pack or two of that beer, too.”   
  
“How long you sticking around?  We could take you out to the brewery and you can sample some other flavors if you like -“   
  
“Just an overnighter, sorry, Steve.  Got a group tomorrow afternoon - you know that routine is important for these guys.  But maybe I can plan a longer trip next time, huh? Don’t see enough of your ugly mug since you moved to Nowheresville, USA.”   
  
“We might be nowhere, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Bucky answered with a fond smile toward Steve.  Sam had to smile at the sappy way the two super soldiers looked at each other. And hope that one day, he could share such looks with his someone special, whoever they might be.   
  
&&&   
  
St. Michael’s was due to put out the Christ child the following evening with a special installation ceremony.  The thefts usually started with the first night the baby was in situ, and continued through to the day after Christmas, when the nativity was retired for the season.   
  
The manger, the spotlights, and the floor of straw were already set up.  During the day tomorrow, Mary and Joseph would be added to the tableau, along with the animals.  There was a slot at the peak of the structure for where the star would be added. The baby would be added tomorrow night, and more figures would be added leading up to Christmas, with the wise men the last to join the show on Christmas Day.  In past years, a new baby Jesus had to be installed each day, following the theft of the night before.    
  
This year was going to be different.   
  
Now, the nativity was just a shell, dark and silent on the cold winter’s night.  Sam supervised the installation of the surveillance pods, and showed Bucky how to use the surveillance drones.  Everything was controlled through an app installed on Bucky’s tablet that linked directly to JARVIS.   
  
He seemed all too happy to help in pursuit of justice, and despite Tony’s protests, didn’t seem to feel this project was beneath his abilities.  With the physical layer of the surveillance system in place, the boys left him to wait for the miscreants, while the three of them retired to Steve’s pickup to go back to Steve and Bucky’s house to enjoy the evening together in heat and comfort, fortified with some of Bucky’s special hot chocolate, and cookies from the church bake sale.   
  
&&&   
  
It was almost anticlimactic in the end.  Three high school boys, decked out in a civilian’s idea of stealth gear (black skinny jeans, black sweaters, and black smears under their eyes that wouldn’t be coming off anytime soon - seriously, had none of them heard of cold cream?) had been apprehended within hours of the baby Jesus being settled into the cradle.  One of the boys had cried, begging them not to tell his father, the mayor of Meadowville. Another had been tight-lipped and tough until Steve had arrived on the scene - the sight of the ex-Captain America had been enough to make him confess all. And when he’d spied Bucky - the fearsome ex-Winter Soldier cum gentleman farmer - the kid actually did piss his pants.  It was the third boy who’d waited until the others had quieted down, and then he’d offered to show them where the stolen baby dolls were kept, as well as to identify the other members of what he termed, “a club of stupid.”   
  
They’d taken Father Joe along to collect the dolls, but none of them were prepared for the neatly labeled shelves bearing over 200 of the things.  Twenty years’ worth of thefts, each identified by date. A basement level trophy case of crèche-nappings.   
  
The local press, The Meadowville Examiner owned by one Ms. Olivia McTavish, had a field day.  Especially when it was learned that the leader of the current crop of cradle robbers was none other than the oldest son of her high school nemesis, Lydia Frobisher.   
  
Olivia was one of Bucky’s “ladies,” a member of the Wicca coven, and a frequent spotlight dancer at the dance club.  She was also in charge of altar flowers and a member of the Nativity Board at St. Michael’s, so the thefts were personal.  Hey, the Wicca group was multi-denominational.   
  
Bucky was the one who came up with the plan, one that Steve vigorously endorsed, and Father Joe laughingly approved.   
  
Effective immediately, Kennedy High School hosted its first ever Give Back Club, its inaugural members a group of senior and junior boys, all of whom had been involved in the Club of Stupid.  It’s leader, that boy who’d blown the whole baby-stealing scam, under guidance from a certain ex-Captain and an ex-Sergeant, announced the club’s first official project: St. Michael’s Baby Jesus Replacement Program and Protection Detail, offering both replacement dolls to other churches plagued by local crèche robbers, and a protection team to guard the crèches against thieves.   
  
Steve and Bucky enjoyed the successful conclusion to their “first case,” and celebrated at the diner with a delicious meal and a couple of slabs of fresh pie.  Over coffee, Bucky raised his mug and Steve clinked his against the rim.   
  
“What’s this for?”   
  
“Think we found ourselves a new career.  Barnes and Rogers, Private Dicks.”   
  
Steve snorted at the suggestive name, but he grinned nonetheless.  “Rogers and Barnes, Confidential Investigations,” he countered.   
  
“Eh, whatever.  Long as we do it together, huh?”   
  
“I’ll drink to that.”   
  
END     
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m really kind of in love with Steve and Bucky and their post-Avengers life in Meadowville. Expect more of these sweet dorks.
> 
> And what do you think? Private Dicks or Confidential Investigations? :)


End file.
